We'll Have the Heart Not to Lose it
by Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley
Summary: World War Two turns Emma's life upside down but she continues to keep marching on despite everything. including realising she's in love with her best friend who has just gone out to war. very high T, slight crossover with P&P, implied violence and sexual scenes.


**Author's Note: this fic has been a complete monster to me. It had taken forever to write and was something I started last September but recently felt the need to finish it and have it posted. A story I need to add to this that really has mostly nothing to do with this fic: once there lived a man called Philip O'Riley who was always referred to as Pat. Pat met Rose in his bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, she was looking for his cousin who had bunked work again, and they didn't hit off right away but he fell for her instantly. He managed to woo her and sacrificed everything he could to marry her including promising to never having children. however the war came along and after escaping death on Dunkirk Pat realised he wanted a child more than anything, just to pass on his legacy in case he died, he got his wife to agree to have this one child and in 1941 their only child and daughter Margret was born. Margret had four children herself later on, two girls and two boys, her second daughter, Shani, went on in life to have three children, after much debate with her husband they settled to name their eldest daughter Stephanie, or as they would affectionately call her Stephy-Lou. So yes the reason you're reading this terribly written Fanfiction is because of World War Two therefore to cut the long story short, I dedicate this to Pat O'Riley (died December 2011). **

Emma knew that if her father saw her now he would have a fit. After all it was a warm April evening and she was without a coat. Unfortunately her father had been dead for almost two years now and she was still feeling empty, numb, and depressed.

Though it was not all down to her beloved father's death, no more than a year since he died England declared war on Germany, and there was a sudden call throughout the country to help. Emma never being the one to back down had been helping with renovations in making the two lower floors into a hospital for wounded soldiers. Highbury was only sixteen miles from London and therefore could be useful in housing the wounded when they returned from war. Emma would still live in her beloved childhood home but she would no longer have a parlour, a dining room, a drawing room, a library, bedrooms galore, instead she had one bedroom, a room joined that could pass as a living room, and a very small bathroom that she insisted on being placed in there. She was not going to trek down the stairs in her nightwear when she needed the toilet nor was she going to bath where anyone could see. To carry on helping with the war effort Emma had herself assigned as a nurse in Hartfield.

It had not been so bad since there has been no actual battle yet and she has only been through training. So far the hours have been reasonable and Highbury carried on as if there was no war. Until now...

Tonight the village hall was decorated, music was playing loudly and joyfully, and everyone danced as they pretended that it was a special occasion and not something so terrible.

The men were going away tomorrow.

All those sons, husbands, and brothers...they were all going to war.

Including George Knightly.

The ten year older man had been Emma's best friend. There had been nothing that kept them apart for long like when he had been away for his studies he had written to her twice a month so she wouldn't cry and he would visit every holiday and her birthday, and she knew she would see him again. She doesn't know if she'll ever see him again after tonight. That little fact makes her feel cold to the bone.

"There you are!"

She turns to see George grinning at her. His eyes were shining with excitement not because of the war but because of the party, he would never admit it out loud but he enjoyed a good party, especially one with dancing. Apart from those eyes everything about him was composed, there was no smile, no relaxed posture, and no calm gait...he knew he was likely to die soon just as she knew it.

"You're missing the party inside," George said, "very unlike you. I thought you would be in there showing everyone how to dance. What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"It's not that cold," Emma murmured.

"I keep forgetting...you don't need to wrap yourself up anymore."

Emma smiled sadly at the thought of her father constantly bundling her up in layers. She once went out in two jumpers and a coat once and it was June. Her smile faded as she recalled something else about her father. "He would hate this," she said gesturing the lively hall, "all this celebrating. War isn't something to celebrate. It's a despicable thing. Do they not remember the injuries? The mental illness? Those who survived never recovered and yet they're in there celebrating the fact their husbands and sons and brothers are going off to war!"

"Emma," George sighed. She inwardly groaned she had a feeling either an argument or a scolding is going to come soon. "It is considered an honour to fight for one's country. Not everyone grew up hearing what happened in the last war like you did. People want to forget what happened all those years ago and they want to forget the reality of what is happening now. They're enjoying their last night with their friends and family and you should too."

"I think I'll just go to bed early," Emma said. "I don't feel like dancing tonight."

She moved to go when he grabbed hold of her wrist stopping her from walking away. She looked at him and could not help but notice the shine in his eyes were gone – they were now dark, serious, and had a strange look of longing in them...she could not break eye contact with him. "This is our last night together," he reminded her, "I'm going tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be," his hand loosened its grip on her wrist and slid down to hold her hand instead. It was a very warm nice hand with calluses and small little scars from when he cut himself on something. She always liked holding his hand when she was a little girl. "Come inside and enjoy the party with me."

For one moment she considered it. She could see herself dancing with everyone, laughing, drinking, enjoying herself, having one last night with her best friend...but then she would eventually have to say goodnight and then it will be morning and then he will be _gone_. John would be gone too, and Robert Martin, and all the other young men.

She did not want to prolong this night. She just wanted it to be over. "Goodnight George," she said firmly as she pulled away from him and walked off into the night.

The next morning she stood there with her head held high trying to keep a brave face on as she watched her friends and family march off in uniforms.

For some strange reason the sight of George in his military uniform broke her heart.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

She has become nothing but a uniform.

The drab grey thing she is ordered to wear has quickly become the only thing she wears. It is plain, long sleeved, white collared pale grey dress with a long apron and matching white cap to keep her hair pinned back. Her only footwear where a pair of boots that she was slowly wearing out as she wore them everywhere, everywhere she went she only ever wore her uniform, even to church. She rarely wore her own clothes anymore as she also used her training to attend the ill in the village.

It was better to be a uniform rather than actually feel.

There is very little news and everyone worries.

All she can think about is what has happened to George? Are the men from Highbury safe and sound?

"I find all this war nonsense rather repelling," Mr Elton said loudly, Emma tried to ignore him as she hastily walked to the Bates' house. Mrs Bates had another throat infection and poor Miss Bates was beside herself with worry and had asked Emma to have a look. Mr Elton had offered to escort her when he had spotted her on the country road. She rather regretted accepting the offer as the man began to prattle utter nonsense. "After all the Germans are never going to invade us. They actually admire us for our great empire and resourceful minds as well as the fact it is well known that we did not support that terrible Treaty which is the cause of this mess. It is the French who want this war and our Government are doing the pre-emptive strike in hopes of preventing a war much like the Great War. It will be an utter failure and such a waste of young men who are far too foolish with the ideal of honour and glory to think about it seriously enough to know not to sign up at all."

"Or perhaps," Emma said coldly, "it is you who are too cowardly to do your duty."

"I beg your pardon!" Mr Elton shouted enraged of being insulted in such a manner. "My dear Miss Woodhouse I am worried that your perception of the world has been altered greatly due to the great stress of giving up your home out of duty and donning on such a uniform. You must be tired from all the work you have done for the community."

"I am not your _dear,_" Emma spat out completely revolted with this tiny man. "I understand men of the cloth do not have to fight for our country but I would think that such a patriotic man would keep his mouth shut on this topic if he was a pacifist. Hitler and his Gestapo are despicable men and are in need of being stopped-"

"The League of Nations was more than capable of handling the situation!" Mr Elton blustered. He was starting to get angry and embarrassed at the dressing down he was receiving from a woman he greatly admired and hoped to have rescued from a life of being a nurse.

He did not expect her to have this sort of reaction to his words.

"The League did _nothing_!" Emma exploded. She was not stupid, she did read the papers, had done since she was a child since it had been her father's favourite activity to sit by the fire as she read them to him. "Hitler had been allowed to invade country after country and it is time to take a stand before it is our turn to be invaded and we will be invaded if we do not defend ourselves for men are selfish, greedy, and ambitious creatures. And let's not even get started what those horrible Nazis are doing to the Jewish community. The stories I have heard are dreadful!"

George and John had a Jewish Grandmother and although she had converted to Christianity to marry their Grandfather it had disturbed them and Isabella and Emma that women like her are being alienated and discriminated against. It was why the Knightly brothers had joined the army as well as their patriotic and dutiful instincts.

Mr Elton opened his mouth to say something. Judging by his expression Emma knew it would be something along the lines of agreeing with the Nazis which only incensed Emma further. "Do not speak another word Mr Elton. I was under the impression you were to preach that God loves us all no matter what and if the Jews choose not to worship like we do why would God love them any less than us?" Emma continued on angrily. "Now excuse me sir but I have a job to do and I hope you never speak to me outside of anything to do with Church business again."

Needless to say after such an incident Mr Elton never approached Emma again nor did he say a condemning word about the war.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

May dragged on with nothing but terrible news, political battles, and quiet dread. No one in Highbury had been affected yet and they all continued on with their lives as if there was no war. As June began Emma's life was suddenly busy. There was a flow of injured soldiers returning from Dunkirk all of them been shot in various places or had broken a bone in their attempt to escape the onslaught from the German troops. Some were just seriously ill due to the terrible conditions they had to suffer while waiting for their rescue.

Emma rarely slept during this month as she tended soldier after soldier waiting for one of them to have a very familiar face that she had known her whole life.

Jane Fairfax and Harriet Smith were her only assistants that she knew by name. Several girls from all over the country had been assigned to Hartfield but Emma had no time to get to know them with all the patients to attend to. Mr Perry and two men from other nearby villages had also joined the 'hospital' and the three of them coped with the workload remarkably well with the help of the nurses.

Emma felt compassion for not only the soldiers who were bloodied but for her fellow nurses, Harriet often studied the soldier's faces as if she was looking for Robert Martin and always let a sigh of relief when she did not recognise the man. She was often pale and sickly looking when she heard a description of a newly wounded soldier. Jane had a similar expression as Harriet and Emma knew there must be a man out there that Jane loved dearly though she had no idea who it was.

It was one day when a dark haired man was brought in one day in September; he had a shot leg and had been using dodgy makeshift bandages to carry on with the war effort that Emma realised why she felt so much compassion for Harriet and Jane.

"What is his name?" she asked panicky. She had not seen his face yet, all she saw was the top of his head, and it looked so much like his, so did that hand that hung out of the bed, oh god...

"Philip O'Riley," Mr Perry replied. "I told you to get the usual supplies, Emma, this man needs surgery, and you know the drill."

Emma sighed in relief and rushed to the storage cupboard to do as Mr Perry said. The moment she stepped in she slumped against the door and realisation hit her.

It wasn't George Knightly.

It could not be George Knightly.

It could never be George Knightly.

If she was ever to find him in a hospital bed or dead then her heart would never recover.

She needed him to stay alive, forever preferably (she could almost hear him scolding her for being so silly), she needed him right there before her so she could ensure he was alive.

George had been part of her life ever since she can remember and the idea of him never being part of her future was soul destroying.

There was a sudden rush of tears falling from her eyes as a terrible and yet fantastic realisation had hit her.

She was madly in love with George Knightly.

She only just realised she was in love with her best friend and he's off fighting a war where he could die at any given moment.

She always did pick her moments didn't she?

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

The days after her realisation dragged slowly with dread.

Any soldier that came in near death could possibly be George and the idea of him dying out there or in her own childhood home made her stomach churn and her throat tighten with the urge to vomit. She stopped eating after a while which is just as well as the need of rationing is all the people could talk about.

Well that and the new Prime Minister and the disaster that was Dunkirk.

Soldiers come and go, some recover and are sent back to the field, some will take longer and heading home to their loved ones, and then tragically some just die.

Philip O'Riley who had indirectly woken Emma to her feelings had quickly became the favourite of the nurses who for no reason anyone could understand all called him Pat. He was charming, warm, kind, and knew how to flatter a girl and Emma can't help but look forward to when she on breakfast duty to receive a 'good morning beautiful' from him.

This particular day he had seemed more cheerful than ever when she came with his breakfast tray.

"Good morning beautiful," he said, "do you know what today is?"

"Tuesday isn't it?" she asked giving him a smile.

"Oh no, well yes, it is, but I meant today is the day I'm going home," Pat said cheerfully, "I'm not sure for how long but any length of time spent with my Rose is better than none. She didn't want me to fight this war but a man has to do his duty to his country, don't you think?"

"Of course," Emma agreed.

"And hopefully this terrible business will be over and we can all go back to our normal lives," Pat continued on. "Do you have a young man out there? A beautiful girl like you should have hundreds of admirers as well as a husband."

"No...No," Emma said shaking her head, "no young man for me, Pat, I best be going. There are far too many hungry men here today."

Before she left Pat suddenly took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Don't fret beautiful, I'm sure you'll find someone sooner or later."

"Thank you," Emma murmured quickly before she hurriedly left to finish her duties.

The morning seemed to drag as all Emma could think about what whether or not George was safe. Whether he would ever come home unharmed. Somehow Emma doubt it although physically her father had been uninjured and whole, he had been destroyed on the inside from the war, so she knew George would not return home untouched. With a shudder Emma continued to work until one of the menial staff approached her with some letters.

"Your post Nurse Woodhouse."

"Thank you," Emma said accepting the letters.

There was one from Isabella who was fretting for John's safety and over the rumours that London will be bombed. Being a mother of five, Isabella had the right to worry over those rumours, and Emma was lost at to what she could say to comfort her. Another letter was from Mrs Weston, who Emma had very little time to see since she had been in training, inviting her for tea while another one was from a soldier recently returned to home thanking her for her care.

And then...and then the last letter...

She did not recognised the address but she did know that handwriting. She would know that handwriting anyway. She had multiple birthday cards written to her in that handwriting. Hastily ripping the letter open Emma dropped down onto the stairs to sit and read.

_Dear Emma, _

_There is so much to say and yet I cannot find the words. I think if I did not have so many conflicting thoughts and emotions as well as more paper I would be able to tell you more. All I can say is that I am safe for now and still out in the field fighting. I cannot disclose to you my whereabouts in case the Germans intercept my letter but I can reassure you that I am always thinking about home. John, who regiment is assigned with mine, worries constantly over Isabella and the children. We have all heard of the rumours about city bombers. I want you to invite Isabella to stay at Donwell until John is home and the war is over, you are also welcome to stay if you need. _

_Thinking of you, always, _

_George Knightly. _

Emma traced the last few words with her finger, _thinking of you, always_. What did George mean by that? Did he mean that she and the rest of Highbury were in his thoughts as home? Or did he mean something entirely different? She doubted the latter. She had always just been a friend to him but still...those words echoed around her for the rest of the day.

In the end she could not focus on her duties and ended up in her room gazing out of the window.

She could not help but smile as she watched a formidable young woman march out Pat O'Riley. He turned and beamed before giving a cheery wave and flirty wink to the building, it might have been a general one for the nurses downstairs or it could have been for her she would never know, but she smiled and back nonetheless. The woman frowned and pulled at him before saying something, he seemed unbothered by her frustration and merely looked at her adoringly.

Emma sighed.

She could only ever hope that would happen to her one day.

_Just come home George_, she thought desperately_, that is all I want from you_.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

The following months went quicker than Emma had thought they would. After all those two months after George had first left had been the slowest and most difficult two months of her life apart from the time immediately after her father died. It was most likely that the presence of her nephews and nieces are what made time move quicker. She had spent less time in her rooms when off duty and more time outside playing with them, spending Sunday dinner with them, and helping them with their school work.

And if she was not entertaining her nephews and nieces while desperately keeping their minds off the war she was comforting Isabella who had increasingly become sick with worry.

It had always been Isabella and John since any of them could remember and the idea that it would only be Isabella was a thought too scary to contemplate.

As Christmas drew near there was some excitement and gossip that did not involve the war or possible Nazi spies.

Mr Elton was to be married.

She and her family had lived in the Vicarage at Mr Elton's invitation for the last month or so when Bath had first been attacked by the Germans. The soon to be Mrs Elton and her family were old friends of Mr Elton before he had come to Highbury and therefore it was unsurprising how short of a courtship there was before they announced to marry.

The whole of Highbury apart from a few nurses and doctors in Hartfield had come to the wedding.

Emma was too busy trying to stop her nephews from fighting to really pay attention to the ceremony. However by the time the reception was over she was reassured that Mr Elton found his match in the most arrogant, selfish, and over-opinionated woman Emma has ever met.

They had a brief conversation that ended pretty much like Emma's conversation with Mr Elton earlier that year. Luckily the eldest three of her nephews and nieces attempted to start a food fight with the wedding cake allowing Emma to make her escape.

"You three are very naughty," Emma scolded as she dragged Harry and Georgie by their ears, Izzy trailed behind her, "your father would be furious if he saw you behave like that. What on earth were you thinking when you stole the cake? Let alone throwing it at the _bride!_"

"Why would Father matter?" Harry snarled. "He's not here is he?"

Emma halted to a stop and let go of her nephews' ears as she turned to face her eldest nephew. He would be ten soon and he stood tall, proud, and confident very unlike his namesake, Emma's father, but so very much like his own father and uncle. Underneath his anger and pride was a trembling fear that Emma could relate to.

_What if he didn't come home_? Seemed to be the unasked question of her nephew.

"Harry I can't promise you anything," Emma said as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "but you must know that if your father had a choice he would be here right this second with you and your siblings and mother. He loves you so very much."

"Obviously not enough or he wouldn't have left!" Harry spat out.

Izzy suddenly burst into tears and Georgie was struggling not to cry himself. Emma felt like crying alongside them. This wasn't _fair._ They should be in their own home, at their own school, with their father home and grumbling like he always did and their mother happy again with no worries in the world beyond childhood illnesses and behaving in class. Instead they were forced to stay in a house they hadn't really been in longer than a few hours, their father might die in some strange foreign country, their home might be bombed to smithereens, and their mother never stops crying when she thinks she's alone.

And what help was _Emma_? She worked endless hours and lived in her own world of worry and grieve to actually be a comfort to them.

"You are wrong," Emma said quietly but sternly, "your father loves you very much. He is out there fighting to protect you and your siblings and your mother. Hitler is a very evil man and he would not hesitate to harm you if you did something he considered illegal. So your father has to fight and defend the country from invasion. So you can live a free and happy life."

"It's not happy though!" Harry cried out as angry tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I know," Emma said pulling him into a comforting hug, Georgie and Izzy hurried to join in and she almost fell backwards at the sudden weight being thrown at her. "I know but it will be. One day."

"Daddy isn't going to come home for Christmas is he?" Izzy sobbed.

"No," Emma said stroking her niece's hair with an awkwardly placed hand, "I don't think he can make it."

"If I am extra good for the next year will he come home?" Izzy asked.

"Me too! Me too!" Georgie burst out in eager and desperate agreement.

Emma was loss for words. While it would be so easy to say yes and have them behave for Isabella and make life so much easier she could not promise a single thing. Just last week poor Mrs Cox received that dreaded letter informing her that her son was dead. People heard her grief-stricken howls of despair from several streets away. Any moment a letter could come to Isabella about John or George, how could she promise John will come home when he could die at any moment?

"I don't know," Emma said sadly, "but we can try, can't we?"

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

Christmas had come and gone and it was a quiet solemn affair. There had been no cheerful parties or festive for Highbury to enjoy. The Eltons had attempted to throw a party, one which the Knightlys and Emma were not invited to, but no one really made an attempt to go or enjoy it.

January went slowly and then so did February. The bombings in London grew worse and the flow of injured soldiers was constant and some of the local girls grew excited at the promise of American soldiers camping close by in order to protect them from invasion.

Winter began to thaw out as February turned into March and the sun was actually shining one pleasant spring day. Taking the advantage of having a rare day off Emma decided to take a walk before heading over to Donwell Abbey to see her sister.

She was halfway there when she halted to a stop.

"Emma..."

The world seemed to have frozen to her. She could not believe her eyes and if she could move she would have pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming because he couldn't be here, could he? She had dreamt about this so often that she couldn't believe he was there right before her.

"You're back," she whispered.

"I'm back," he confirmed, "it's only for a month but I'm back."

All of the sudden she was moving without a single conscious thought. One moment she was standing far away from him and the next she had run across the path and thrown herself into his arms, she buried her face into his shoulder and breathed in his very scent, it was like coming home though she was never the one that left. She held on tightly and let out a choked laughter when she felt him return her hug.

"I have missed you," she confessed to his jacket.

"I have missed you as well," he murmured affectionately.

They pulled apart to look at one another properly and she could not help but admire how wonderful he looked in his uniform. She had never once fallen for the romanticism of war and dashing soldiers in their uniforms since she had seen the consequences of this war first hand. However seeing him looking so handsome, unharmed, and wonderful as ever made her fall for the idea of a dashing soldier just a tiny bit.

Whatever he saw in her he had liked as well and Emma felt her cheeks heat up as their eyes seemed to have met some sort of understanding.

She couldn't explain it. She just knew and moved instinctively onto her tiptoes just as he ducked down to meet her.

Poor Miss Bates had a shock of a lifetime when she on her way to visit her niece Jane she stumbled upon George Knightly kissing Emma Woodhouse.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

There was no happy endings however.

John had also returned home with George and while he was welcomed warmly by his eldest three and his own wife, Little Johnny and Em who had almost forgotten about him had shied away from him and hid behind Emma or their mother the whole evening.

Emma has never seen her brother in law look so heartbroken in her whole life.

To help the children adjust to having John and George back in their lives Emma managed to get a week off and spent it at Donwell Abbey where she was not only mediating between the children and the men but being a comfort to them both. Emma's bedroom was next to George's and whether that was a happy accident or by design Emma didn't care all it meant to her was that she could hear him when he had nightmares.

They were terrible nightmares filled with blood, death, and war. The nightmares of every soldier Emma had taken care of before. Emma had never known George to be frightened of anything but every night she would hear his terrified yells as he called out for the men that died in battle beside him. Every night she would leap out of bed and rush to his room while desperately attempting to wake him up and comfort him. It hadn't worked well for the first three nights, George was closed up and angry whenever she tried.

"I said I was fine Emma just go away!" he finally snapped on the third night.

"Fine! See if I care!" Emma hissed back before flouncing out of the room.

She tried very hard not to care the next day. He was obviously exhausted and she knew he didn't go back to sleep because she didn't either and spent every waking moment before the sun rose listening to his movements. He flinched when Harry slammed the door to hard and jumped down when Em let out a high pitched shriek and then he barely ate when dinner was on the table.

Not that she could blame him seeing how awful mealtimes were with all the food rationed. Emma would love to go back to the days of Gruel if it meant she didn't have to have beef dripping for the fifth time this week.

She was woken up again by George's shouts and tried very hard to ignore them.

"BINGLEY! BINGLEY! DON'T DIE ON ME BINGLEY! SOMEONE HELP! SOMEONE!"

Emma let out a whimper as she tried desperately to ignore the yells just like George wanted her to but she just couldn't. He was in pain and she had to help him whether or not he liked it. She leapt out of bed and rushed into his room before kneeling beside him and trying to shake him awake. This alone was a difficult task seeing as he was flailing about and trying to fight whatever was haunting him away.

"George! George wake up! Wake up! George wa-"

A stray flailing hand suddenly hit her hard in the mouth with such force that she fell of the bed. "Oh god, Emma!" George suddenly sat up. "Are you all right? Have I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Emma groaned as she got up on her feet, "my mouth hurts a little but I'm sure you can kiss it better."

George laughed weakly as he helped Emma back up onto the bed and once she was settled with her legs flung over his lap and his arm forced round her shoulders he lightly kissed her lips cautiously. He didn't want to bruise them even more.

"Who's Bingley?" Emma asked.

"I think its best you went back to bed Emma," George said quickly, "we don't want anyone to find you in here and think the worst. It would ruin your reputation."

"Like I care about my reputation," Emma snapped, "I care about you. George, let me in, this is nothing new to me," her voiced had turned to pleading. "I deal with traumatised soldiers on a daily basis; I can help you, more importantly I want to help you more than anything in the world because you mean so much to me. I _love_ you George."

It was the first time she had ever said it to him and she really wished it was some sort of happy occasion where he was smiling and his eyes were sparkling of joy but it wasn't. Instead for a brief moment he didn't look so...so _dead_. So closed up and locked away from her, the corners of his lips twitched and that was enough for her. For now.

"Charles Bingley was part of my regiment," George said softly, he focused more on his blanket than her as he spoke, "he was a good man. Constantly cheerful and good natured despite this bloody war. He had a wife and a son named after him, he kept a photo of them with him at all times, she was expecting another child when he left..."

"What happened to him?" Emma asked hesitatingly.

"He was shot," George clutched desperately to the blanket, "one moment he was beside me and the next he was on the ground dying and I did nothing to save him."

"Oh George..."

"It's my fault Emma, I should have moved more quickly, I should have done something more..."

"Hey, hey listen to me," she forced him to look at her and tried not to show her shock when she saw tears in his eyes. He had never cried in front of her ever. "It was not your fault. You did the best you could and I'm sure he knew that. Bingley wouldn't want you to have blamed yourself, he would have wanted you to live, fight for the right to live life to its fullest not spend your time feeling guilty and blaming yourself for something you weren't responsible for."

"But his poor wife and children..."George said hopelessly.

"They knew what was going to happen. Trust me they knew he what he was risking but they let him do it anyway because he was fighting for them. They would never blame you at all; you tried to save the man they loved."

There was long drawn out moment of silence before suddenly George's mouth covered hers desperately, passionately, and so fiercely she knew that her mouth would most certainly be bruised in the morning.

So would certain other parts of her as he clutched desperately to her waist, his finger nails digging into her skin, and he pleaded with her both silently and out loud, to let him prove he was still alive. To find something worth fighting for. To do something so draining and wonderful and exciting and tiring that he would forget his nightmare and sleep peacefully.

Despite the roughness of it all Emma enjoyed it thoroughly and rested her head against his bare chest once it was over exhausted and sore herself.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she whispered.

"I just..."

"I know."

"The other men in the regiment all had someone to love. Wives, sweethearts...all I could think of was you. I love you Emma. I love you so much that I could never put it into words but all I could think when I was out there was how it was too late. I would come home to find you've married Mr Elton or some dashing young soldier and I would be too late. Or I would die before I get the chance to tell you."

"I know," Emma murmured as she smiled into his chest, "I felt the same. The nurses all had their loves and future husbands and all I could think of was you. I saw this injured soldier and just for one moment I thought I had lost you and my heart broke. I thought I would never see you again and that almost killed me."

He rubbed her arm gently and slowly it was so soothing that she almost fell asleep. Everything felt right and perfect despite the nightmare surrounding it. She was meant to be in his bed and in his arms no matter how scandalous and wrong others would view it seeing as they were not married.

As if it hasn't been done before. Despite what their Father believed Harry was certainly not two months early and George would never dare jeopardise her reputation. He was too much of a gentleman.

Proving her right he suddenly spoke up, "Let's get married before I have to leave again," he said hesitatingly as if he thought she would reject him.

"Okay," Emma agreed sleepily.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

The wedding was nothing like the one she had dreamed of when she was a child or even the one she planned for herself when she was fourteen. It was however completely perfect despite the scenario.

The whole community came together to help make this work. Several of the older wives in Highbury managed to put together enough ingredients to make a cake, the others put enough food together for a party, and some of the boys had shredded newspaper into confetti for them. Best of all, however, was that Isabella found their mother's old wedding dress in time for Mrs Weston to alter it.

The only one who complained about the wedding was Mrs Elton who thought the food was terrible and Emma's dress was too old fashioned but no one really cared for her opinions and she was ignored.

There was no honeymoon. Emma had always hoped for a seaside two week honeymoon but she knew it was too impossible to do with the best known seaside towns being bombed and George due to go back in a week's time, the special licence took too long as well as some of the planning and before Emma knew it her time with George was almost up.

However there was most certainly a wedding night much to both the bride's and groom's enjoyment.

Then on the last day there was another Mrs Knightly saying goodbye to her husband.

"Come back home soon," Emma ordered him, "We have yet to have our honeymoon and I want you to take me to Brighton."

"Oh you _want_ me do you? Whatever happened to those lovely manners poor Mrs Weston worked endlessly to teach you?" George teased.

"Please George give yourself to me and pretty please take me on a honeymoon the moment you come back which will be forever, please?" Emma said innocently causing him to laugh.

That had been her goal after all. She wanted to see him leave with a smile on his face so she won't be able to cry.

She couldn't dare cry it would ruin everything.

They kissed one more time before she threw her arms round his neck. "You don't have to take me to Brighton, just come home," she whispered in his ear.

He squeezed her back tightly, "I will try," he whispered.

He marched on back to war without so much a single look back at her. She couldn't blame him. If she was in his shoes and glanced back just for a second she would end up running back into his arms.

But he had to keep marching on if just to fight for another day to fight once more. He had to fight this war for not only the freedom of so many people being suppressed and tortured but for her and the future they could have.

She had to keep marching on to.

She had soldiers to tend to. To ensure one family would get their son or husband back in one piece. To ensure that there is a healthy man willing to go out fight again so they could end this disaster.

She had to keep marching on or she would end up drowning in her own sorrows and worries.

She placed a hand over her stomach and hoped with all her heart that soon she would have another reason to keep marching, to keep fighting, and of course something for George to fight for.

She wanted to be able to bring a child into this world with George's eyes and she wanted to bring it up in a world free from war.

And that was something worth fighting for even if this war wasn't.


End file.
